A Love Made New (20 page)

His feet refusing to move, Bartholomew stared at Mike as he walked away. The parking lot was beginning to clear as workers left for home. They were going home to their spouses. Their children.

I need my freedom
. He'd never wanted it more than he did now. But he would only get it in God's time. He knew that. He had to accept it. But he was losing patience. And now he'd lost the only thing that had kept his patience from evaporating altogether. How could he go on without any contact with Naomi?
How am I going to tell her?

When he was finally able to move, he picked up his keys and drove home. A short while later he was in his bedroom, staring at a pad of paper, a pen in his hand. Anger over his circumstances had diminished long ago, mostly due to his continued connection with Naomi. How long could he keep the fury at bay now that he couldn't contact her anymore?

He stared at the paper. This would be the hardest letter he would ever write. But Mike was right. He couldn't put his family at risk anymore, even if it meant cutting them off completely. Wiping the tears from his eyes, his heart broke as he put pen to paper.
You are the love of my life . . .

A
sa kept his distance before church service Sunday morning, and Abigail couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing. Despite telling herself that Asa taking her home from church wasn't a big deal, she had taken a little extra time getting ready that morning, enough that she had kept Sadie and Aden waiting. She still found herself wanting to wish ten pounds away before she got to church, despite Asa telling her he liked her the way she was. That didn't seem possible, since she didn't like herself the way she was.

She tried to be detached from him during the service, but her gaze kept straying to the men's side of the Yutzys' barn. Right before the hymns started she saw him, sitting next to Andrew. And for the next three hours she kept her mind and gaze on him instead of on God and worship.

When Bishop Yoder started the prayer, Abigail closed her eyes and tried to focus on being in God's presence. But she failed. She hadn't focused on God in the past few months, not since
her parents' accident. There had been too many distractions, and right now Asa was a big one.

“Abigail,” Joanna said, as everyone else rose from the benches at the conclusion of the service. “Andrew and I would like for you to come for supper tomorrow night. I haven't seen you in so long. I've missed you.”

Pushing her guilt out of her mind about not visiting Joanna, Abigail replied. “I've missed you too.”

Joanna paused. “Do you mind if Asa's there?”

“Why would I mind?” Abigail said, a bit too quickly.

“I didn't want you to think we're setting you up with him. I know you're still trying to get over Joel.”

Abigail pinched her lips together. She needed to tell Joanna what was going on with her and Asa. Maybe talking to her sister would help her make sense of it. If she was doing the wrong thing, Joanna would let her know. She was about to say something when Asa came up next to them. “You ready?” he said after telling Joanna hello.

“Uh,
ya
.” She met Joanna's surprised look. “Asa's taking me home.”

“I see.” Joanna's brow lifted, along with the corner of her mouth. “We'll talk tomorrow night,
ya
?”

Abigail nodded. “Definitely.”

After Joanna walked away, Asa asked, “What was that about?”

“
Nix.
We should get going.”

Asa led her to the buggy and she climbed in, aware that a few people were looking at them with curious eyes.
Let them wonder
, she thought. She was tired of worrying about other people's opinions. She glanced at Asa. He didn't seem concerned at all that people were seeing him take her home. In doing so they were basically announcing that they were seeing each other.

He turned to her and grinned. “Mind if I take the long way home? Unless it's too cold for you today.”

“It's fine.” Now that it was the end of March, the weather had turned mild. This didn't mean bad weather was over. They would probably have a few more spring snows before warm weather set in for good. But this morning was perfect for a drive.

He pulled out of the Yutzys' driveway. “If you get too cold, you can always move a little closer to me. I don't bite, at least not usually.”

That made her chuckle. “I'll keep that in mind.”

Asa kept his horse at a steady but slow trot as they made their way to her house. He started the conversation off by asking her what her favorite color was, and from there they continued to talk for the next twenty minutes. She learned Asa's favorite color was blue, which didn't surprise her. His favorite food did—chili spaghetti.

“I never thought about putting chili on spaghetti,” she said.

“You've never had chili with macaroni?”

“
Ya
, but not spaghetti.”

“It's pasta. Same thing.”

“
Nee
. Spaghetti is a lot different.”

“True. And chili spaghetti is only good when it's topped off with cheddar cheese and diced onion.”

“Remind me not to kiss you after you eat that.”

He gave her a sly look. “In that case, forget the onions.” He tapped the reins on the back of his horse, and the mare quickened her step. There wasn't much traffic on the road this morning. “So what's
yer
favorite food?”

“I don't know if I have a favorite. I just have foods I don't like.”

“Such as?”

“Believe it or not, I don't like pickles.”

His brow lifted as if she'd just told him she'd gone skydiving last summer. “That can't be possible. How can you be Amish and not like pickles?”

“I guess I'm the only Amish woman who doesn't. I don't like pickled anything.”

“Pickled eggs?”

“Nope.”

“Pickled beets?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Yuck.”

“Pickled pigs' feet?”

“Definitely not.” She looked at him. “Please tell me you don't like them either.”

“Never had them. They could replace chili spaghetti as the best food in the world.”

She folded her hands in her lap. “I highly doubt it.”

They talked about more mundane topics, but Asa's charm and humor made them interesting. By the time he turned down her street, she was surprised how fast the ride had gone.

“So are
yer
parents coming to visit you soon?” Abigail asked.

Asa didn't say anything right away. That made her look at him, and she noticed he'd stiffened. “
Nee
,” he said. “I don't think so.”

“Do you keep in touch with them?” She realized that other than telling her about them wanting him to work in the factory, he hadn't said anything about his life in Shipshewana.

“Not really.”

She wanted to ask him more. Like how his sisters were doing. Her curiosity was piqued, but they had turned into her driveway. What had made him return to Birch Creek? She turned, but he wasn't looking at her. When she looked at him, the ease in his expression disappeared. Had she said something wrong?

“Still on for Dutch Blitz?” he said, suddenly snapping out of whatever trance he was in.

“Of course. I'll be at Joanna's tomorrow night for supper.”

“What a coincidence.” He flashed her a smile. “So will I.”

Did he have any idea how his smile changed his face from handsome to almost unbearably good-looking? But she knew there was more to Asa than his good looks, and she was finding the man underneath the handsomeness to be even more appealing.

“I'll see you tomorrow night, then,” he said.

She nodded. “
Danki
for the ride.”

“Anytime, Abigail. I mean that.”

She looked at him for a long moment. “I know.”

Asa waited until Abigail went inside her house. When the door shut behind her, he leaned back in the seat and blew out a long breath. That was close. When she asked him about his family, that had made him think about Susanna. He had to tell Abigail about her, and soon.

This was also the first time she'd asked him questions about Shipshewana. He should have prepared for it. But he'd spent so long blocking out his life there, trying to come to terms with what he had to leave behind. Shipshe represented pain and loss. Abigail represented comfort. And love.

As he had driven her home, he realized God was right in bringing Abigail to Asa's attention. He loved her wit, the way she didn't hesitate to give him a hard time, the ease with which they talked. There had been times during his relationship with Susanna that conversation had ground to a halt, and Asa had
searched for something to say. It wasn't comfortable silence, like he'd had with Abigail during part of the ride home. Now he knew without a doubt that he and Susanna would have never worked out. She would have been a decent wife, mostly because she was eager to please. And while there was no spark between them, they were friends. Some friendships did make good marriages, but he wasn't satisfied with only “good.” Abigail would be the best wife for him.
God, you know what you're doing.

He smiled as he drove home. After he took care of his horse he went inside to spend the rest of the day resting. Or taking a nap. He was tired. He hadn't slept well the last two nights, thinking about Abigail. She'd given him a chance and he didn't want to mess it up.

He collapsed on the couch, one he'd bought secondhand last week so if anyone came over—like Abigail—she would have a place to sit down other than the rocking chair. He still hadn't touched the upstairs of his house, but he was ready to start working on it again. He was also seriously considering the idea of starting a bookkeeping business. Her confidence in him gave him confidence in himself. There were lingering doubts, though. Could he get enough clients to quit his job at the plastics factory? Could he successfully pursue a dream his family had dismissed? Did he have the courage to do it?

Asa turned on his side, his back to the back of the couch, and started to close his eyes. His gaze landed on the stack of letters on the floor a few feet away. There were five of them now, two from Susanna and three from his mother. He should have opened them. While he had felt a yearning for Shipshe shortly after he left, that had disappeared. He was focused on life here, not in Indiana, and he didn't want his old life to interrupt that. But he had put it off long enough. “Tomorrow,” he said as he closed his
eyes. He'd deal with the letters tomorrow night—after he beat Abigail at Dutch Blitz.

When Irene arrived at Sol's Monday morning, his workshop was locked. She frowned. Well, she wasn't going to give up so easily. After praying not only on Friday night, but Saturday night and Sunday too, she was more sure than before that she and Sol were meant to be together. The hard part would be convincing him. Of course, she couldn't do that if he kept shutting her out.

She went to the house and knocked on the door, hugging her arms around her body. The day was cloudless but still cold, even though it was almost April. Winter seemed to stretch on endlessly this year. She shifted from one foot to the other, and then the door finally opened.

“Hello, Irene,” Sol's mother, Rhoda, said.

“Hi. Is Sol here?”

“He's not in the shop?”

“
Nee
. It's locked.”

“He might have stepped out to run an errand or something.” But she didn't sound too convinced.

Irene wasn't convinced either. With the meticulous way Sol had cared for his mother since his father left, she doubted he would have run an errand without telling her first.

His mother's smile slipped a bit. “He probably went to the sawmill. He usually goes there once a week. Would you like to come inside and wait for him?”

Irene was a bit surprised at the invitation. She met Rhoda's eyes and saw something familiar in them. Loneliness. She was as lonely as her son. Irene's heart went out to her, but she had a
feeling Sol wasn't at the sawmill. “I appreciate the invitation, and I'd like to take you up on it some other time.”